


Hollow, Hollow All Delight

by spirithorse



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Arthurian AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the peaceful days of his father's reign over, King Jean and his faithful servant Marco go to restore Queen Historia to her throne; bringing the two of them closer to the prophesied union of all the kingdoms and the inevitable destiny that looms before them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow, Hollow All Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoeBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/gifts).



> For the prompt: King Arthur!Jean and Merlin!Marco. If you're familiar with the BBC Merlin, that's the visuals I always have wanted to see them in/imagine them in but if you're not, any imagining of them in the Camelot myth is fine! I just love the idea of Jean being this fated leader that is sometimes unsure of himself behind closed doors and overcompensates for it by being somewhat of an arrogant ass in public. And Marco being his man-servant who secretly uses magic to aid and protect Jean because he knows deep down he's a great leader who just needs a little nudge in the right direction. All while keeping his magic secret from him because sorcery is outlawed in Camelot!
> 
> I cannot tell you how much I nearly screamed out loud when I saw this. Arthurian legend is my favorite thing to mess around in. Hilariously, I also just finished a grand rewatch of the series just three days before the assignment came. 
> 
> Apologies for playing fast and loose with SnK canon, Arthurian literature and Celtic mythology. Title taken from _The Passing of Arthur_ by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Jean looked away from the fire abruptly as a stick cracked in the forest. He reached for his sword, pulling it out of its scabbard as he looked around. All the other knights followed his lead; all of them standing up and starting to edge away from the fire to spread out around their chosen camp site. Marco was the only one who didn’t stand, he remained crouched by the fire with Christa but his hand did move towards the sword that he kept at his side.

Marco met his gaze, giving Jean a slow nod as he shifted to protect Christa. Jean returned it before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the surrounding forest.

They were deep in enemy territory, if Mitras could be considered an enemy. Technically there was a standing treaty with the country, but that had been when King Uri was alive. Jean didn’t know if the treaty would hold considering the state of the kingdom. Uri’s nieces and nephews had been fighting over the throne for five years. Jean narrowed his eyes and stared out into the darkness. Five years was a long time, and there was no guarantee of there being a kingdom left. Not that he would be able to tell that to Christa.

No, not Christa, Princess Historia.

Jean shook his head again, adjusting to the new name. For the last five years of his life, she had been Christa, just another servant scurrying around the castle at Trost.

Mikasa tensed on the far side of the camp, Jean turning to face her. He stood up, curling his fingers around his sword as he saw her move off into the trees. She hadn’t gone more than three steps before two people moved into the dim light that the camp fire threw out. Mikasa lowered her sword, but Jean remained tense until the two people stepped into the light. He sighed when he recognized Armin and Sasha, sitting back down as they came around to the fire.

Armin immediately claimed the other side of Marco, the two of them whispering to each other. Jean rolled his eyes at the two of them, turning his attention to Sasha as the rest of the knights came closer to the fire. Connie and Reiner were the only ones to stay on the edges, the two of them circling the camp on their watch. Jean raised his eyebrow at the longing look that Connie shot Sasha, but he ignored it. Connie and Sasha could do whatever they wanted as soon as Sasha finished reporting to him.

He sat back down, sliding his sword back into the scabbard. He sighed when he saw Sasha eyeing the spit where the rabbits were roasting. Jean reached out to tap her shoulder, not surprised when she jumped. Sasha gave him a pleading look before she gave it up, crossing her arms over her chest. “Come on, we’ve been on the move since sunrise.”

“It’s not done yet. You won’t starve.”

She raised her eyebrow, Jean almost sure that she took it as a challenge. If she hadn’t been about to report back, Jean was sure that she would be trying to sell the fact that she had been sneaking around since the sun went down. Even with her findings to report, Jean was sure that Sasha was going to rush to be the first to claim one of the rabbits, and Marco would let her. Jean was tempted to shoot a glare at Marco to warn him off, but he wanted the information that Sasha had gotten more than he wanted to keep her from the food.

He gave Sasha an expectant look, sitting back when she sighed. Sasha flopped down onto the ground, Jean noting that she placed herself between him and the food. She gave him a grin before settling back. “Everything seems to be going according to Armin’s plan. Erwin and his half of the army are in place down to the east of the castle. Keith’s is a bit slower, they were settling into place. Armin says that they’ll be ready when we attack.”

Jean nodded, the news making the twisting in his stomach settle down. They weren’t charging in without half of their force like Jean had worried about. He hadn’t thought that any of his commanders would let him down, but he was still fretting. No one had been able to get anything from Mitras in five years, so they were charging in using old maps. Jean didn’t doubt his strategists, but talking over the old maps and heading out to the castle itself were two different things.

He drummed his fingers against the pommel of his sword before shaking his head. “Anything else?”

“Do you doubt my skills?” Sasha grinned, leaning forward. “Armin and Erwin spent so much time talking with each other that I got bored and decided to check out the castle.”

Jean hissed and glanced over at Armin. The man looked just as surprised as he was, but Sasha didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking at the ground and drawing something with the knife she had taken from her belt. She sketched out a rough oval, with a smaller square at one end. She tapped her knife at the square before shaking her head.

“I didn’t get all the way to the castle, but I did circle the walls, so you can stop worrying. They’re not as good as they look, especially towards the south. It looks like it suffered a bombardment there, it’s a potential place to storm.”

“I don’t think they’ll leave it unguarded.”

“Our archers can take care of that.” Armin piped up from his place beside Marco. He inched away from the fire, staring at the rough drawing that Sasha had drawn. “Erwin and Keith already have a plan for their archers. We can use ours to cover the foot soldiers while the punch through the weak point in the wall. They can’t watch the front gate and the back wall at the same time. If we split the army, then one of them will be able to get in and hold the city as the rest sweep through.”

Armin started muttering to himself, leaning over the picture as he started to work out a plan. Jean left him to it, looking back at Sasha.

She shrugged and tucked her knife back into her belt. “There was nothing else that I spotted on the walls, but there were plenty of campfires towards the back.” Sasha leaned over to tap the empty space behind the castle. “I’m guessing that Prince Ulkin is sitting out there, waiting on his younger siblings to make a move.”

Armin jerked his head up. “How many?”

Sasha shrugged. “More than I could count.”

Jean cursed and wrapped his hand around his sword. He hadn’t expected to be able to just charge in without any problems, but he had hoped that the two oldest brothers had fought themselves out. He hadn’t been able to figure out what had happened to the youngest members of the Reiss family, but there had always been rumors. Even Grisha Jaeger, who had been called to Mitras when King Uri was getting sick, refused to say what had happened to the younger two. For all Jean knew, he was putting Historia on the throne only to have her lose it to one of her younger half siblings. Then again, Jean was sure that Grisha wouldn’t have remained silent if he had known that the younger two were still alive.

He let his breath hiss out between his teeth. “How could Ulkin have so many soldiers?”

Sasha shrugged, her attention going back to the spits as Marco poked at them. It didn’t matter that her attention was gone, she had reported everything that she knew. The only person left to report was Armin, but he was already working at the new version of the plan. It was bound to be better than the initial plan, which had been riding up to the gate and demanding that whichever brother held the throne give it up to Historia or he would find himself facing the army that Jean had brought to enforce the claim. With Ulkin waiting on the plains behind the castle with whatever army he had managed to conjure, an actual battle plan would be smart, especially since they didn’t know who was helping Ulkin.

What he wanted to do was to send someone to Ulkin’s army to see if there was a chance of a truce. He didn’t want to fight on two fronts, not even if he had the most brilliant strategists the land had ever known. Brilliance didn’t always mean victory; that was a lesson that his father had practically beaten into his head. They couldn’t just rely on a single strength, that’s what had caused the disorder in the kingdoms back in his grandfather’s days. That and sorcery.

Jean shivered and looked around the campfire, counting the knights around him. They were the advance guard, a smaller group of knights that could move quickly to the city and gather information that the rest of the army wouldn’t have time to get. It wasn’t the way that his commanders liked for him to travel, but Jean preferred moving around in a smaller group. Still, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. There was no telling what the armies inside and outside the castle would do and Jean didn’t like the idea of being caught between the two of them.

He rubbed his arms, trying to ward off the chill of the night. Jean’s gaze drifted over the knights in position, moving through them to where Historia was crouched by the fire. She didn’t seem to be paying attention to what was going on, not that Jean blamed her. He couldn’t think of anyone with more reason to be nervous than Historia.

Jean found his gaze lingering on Marco, watching as his servant took the rabbits from the fire. As he expected, Marco passed the first one to Sasha before he began butchering the others to pass out among the rest of the knights. Jean rolled his eyes, freezing when Marco looked his way. He offered Marco a disapproving look, earning one in return.

He sighed and looked away, trying to ignore the smell of cooked rabbit. His stomach rumbled, but the thought of the upcoming battle made it turn as well. Jean didn’t think he would be able to keep anything down, not even if he had to sit through a battery of disapproving looks from Marco.

He swallowed and looked out towards where the bulk of the castle could been seen. It was just a shadow in the distance from their place in the trees, an imposing shadow. Jean narrowed his eyes, trying to pick out movement even though he knew they were too far to see anything. He had been the one to tell them to camp far enough away to not be spotted immediately. Five years of fighting or not, Trost and Mitras were still technically allies. Bringing in his own army might trick whoever was on the throne, but bringing Historia with him couldn’t be disguised as anything but an aggressive act.

By all the laws of the land, Historia was the niece with the fewest rights to the throne, but she had a claim and was indebted to Trost and Jean for hiding her for the past five years. It was better to have an ally on the throne of Mitras, especially when anything could happen.

The peaceful days of his father’s reign were over. With the nobles of Stohess agitating King Fritz to go to work for their own sakes and a rebellion against Queen Rita in Quinta, Jean sometimes felt that the world as he knew it was crumbling down around him. The only kingdom that could be of help and wasn’t overrun with the fierce Cewri clans was Mitras, but the only way to win them over was to make sure that a monarch of _their_ choice was on the throne. It was a complicated mess that made Jean wish that his father was still alive.

Geoffroi would have known how to deal with the situation far better than Jean ever could. It seemed like all Geoffroi had to do was walk into a room and people would stumble over themselves to make sure things went his way. Jean didn’t know if it had been his father’s charisma or the fact that all of the kingdoms remembered what had happened when old King Rhys had called on a foreign commander from across the sea. There were still enough soldiers in his army that remembered his father’s campaign to bring peace to Trost and the surrounding kingdoms. Even if they hadn’t, Jean remembered his father pointing out great battlefields on their patrols around Trost and the whispering of the other monarchs and their children when they had visited the citadel.

“King Geoffroi reigns in peace now,” they had said, “but he has reigned in war, and remembers those days clearly. If you have a choice, anger the Cewri before you anger the King of Trost.”

They had talked about his father like that until the day he had died. Jean was sure that, in the far corners of Trost, mothers still told their children to be good or else King Geoffroi would come and get them. It was enough to make him wonder if anyone had even noticed the fact that he was on the throne, or if the ghost of his father was just too much for him to conquer.

He startled out of his thoughts as someone touched his shoulder. Jean was in the middle of reaching for his sword when he realized that it was just Marco. He stared at his servant, shaking his head and holding out a hand when Marco offered him a plate of rabbit. “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.” Marco’s face fell when Jean pushed the plate away again.

The expression almost made him bend, but Jean didn’t allow himself. He rolled away again, expecting to be left alone.

He heard Marco sigh, the sound making him tense. The sound usually preceded Marco pulling him out of his bed in the morning or delivering bad news.

Instead, Marco just moved to sit on the other side of him. The plate was shoved under his nose, Jean jerking his head back in surprised. When he tried to push it away, Marco was firm. “You wouldn’t want to fall off your horse tomorrow. What would the knights think?”

Jean snorted, but he took the plate anyway. He picked at the meat, intending to just pretend until Marco left him alone. But Marco wasn’t moving. He watched Marco, groaning when his servant just crossed one leg over the other and settled down. From the way that he was sitting, Marco wasn’t going to move for a while.

He huffed and jammed a piece of meat into his mouth, not bothering to swallow before he spoke. “What are you, my mother?”

That got a laugh out of Marco, something in Jean unwinding a bit at the sound. If Marco was laughing, then everything was still alright. Still, that didn’t mean that he would be happy about it.

He chewed morosely on the piece of rabbit, watching as Marco recovered. Marco shook his head and leaned back on his hands. “As much as I would love to be like Lady Eirian, I don’t think I’m up to the task.”

Jean snorted, the sound almost a laugh. Marco seemed to take it as one, because he grinned and settled back against the log. Jean settled back as well, feeling himself start to relax. It was almost like the nights back in his rooms when they could relax from the day. It was almost like he was a prince again with no great pressure on his shoulders.

He shook his head, looking back over at the small camp. It wasn’t time to be thinking about what he had left behind, not with the battle looming over him.

Jean looked back at his plate, going back to picking at his food. With what Sasha had discovered, the battle plans were bound to change. Even then, his role wouldn’t. Everyone would expect him to be at the front, which meant that someone else would have to lead the assault on the weak part of the wall.

He set his plate down on the log, ignoring the way that Marco reached out to steady it. He also ignored the pointed look that his servant shot him. He would go back to eating as soon as he finished with the planning.

Jean knelt down beside Armin, watching as his strategist considered the rough picture while he ate. He let Armin have another moment of silence before snapping his fingers. Armin jerked upright, nearly dropping his plate.

Jean reached out to catch it, giving Armin a long look before letting go. “You have something?”

Armin shrugged, but the look on his face said that he had something. Jean took it as a good sign, rocking back onto his heels. “If you have something, then you should probably go back to Erwin and Keith with the news.” He got a hum as a response, Jean glancing over the knights that were left circling the camp. He raised his hand to motion to Eren and Mikasa. “Go on, and take these two before Eren does something stupid.”

He got an even glare from Eren as a response, not that it was a threat of anything. He was about to return it when Armin stood up, watching as he gathered his things and went to join his two friends. The man paused before stepped out of the circle of the fire, turning to look back at him. “You’ll be leading the front?”

Jean shrugged. “I need the best I have at the wall.”

“Right.” Armin tipped his head before fading into the woods with the two knights..

Jean didn’t bother to stay behind to listen to the conversation, Armin would know what to do. He was sure that Armin would come back with new additions to the plan, something that was far better than the half measures than they already had. Jean would leave that all to Armin, save for one last thing.

He turned and walked back to where Marco was still balancing his plate. Jean claimed the plate, settling it back on his lap. He took a few more bites before focusing on Marco.

It said something about how much time that he spent staring at his servant that Marco didn’t flinch. Marco just leaned back and closed his eyes, the man probably exhausted from running around the camp. Knowing Marco, he wouldn’t stay still for long before going to his next task. How the man ever had the energy for anything after everything that he did was beyond Jean, but Marco just kept going. It was what Marco did, to a degree that Jean wondered how he had ever gotten along without Marco. The man was their good luck charm no matter where they went, because good things seemed to happen around him.

Jean gripped the plate tighter for a moment before he shook his head. They would need that luck in the battle and, no matter how much Jean wanted Marco to stay close to him, there was a more important place that he needed Marco.

“Stay with Historia tomorrow.”

Marco sat up abruptly. “Why?”

“Her people need to see her, but she needs to stay safe. It would have been easier if Ymir was still around but…” Jean shrugged, carefully skirting around the subject of the missing woman. “You’re good enough with a sword to be her bodyguard. And if things go wrong…well you seem to have a knack for getting out of trouble.”

“It’s from years of getting you out of it.” Marco laughed, but it sounded hollow. He shook his head. “Jean, I don’t think-”

“Then don’t. You’re staying with Historia, got it?”

Marco looked surprised, Jean sure that he saw hurt flash across Marco’s face, but he ignored it. He was the king and his orders weren’t to be questioned.

He nodded at Marco before turning back to the fire. He wasn’t in the mood for Marco’s cheerfulness; he just wanted to hear what Armin had to say when he came back from meeting with Erwin. After that, he just wanted to sleep. There was no point in coming out to Mitras if he was just going to fall off his horse. A king was meant to lead his troops, not linger in the back while the rest carried on.

Jean’s stomach turned at the thought. He set his plate down and rested his arms on his knees. He heard Marco sigh and grab the plate before his servant walked away. Jean swallowed and peeked over his shoulder, watching as Marco moved around the camp. He shook his head and focused his attention on the fire, going over the scanty battle plans in his head over and over again.

* * *

Llamrei pawed at the ground, Marco stroking the mare’s neck. She snorted and shook her head, but she stayed still. He gave her an extra pat for that before sitting back in the saddle, always looking around the battlefield.

So far, there wasn’t anything too threatening to their position. Then again, he and Historia were back with the archers. The two of them were the only ones mounted among the archers, but no one from the castle was trying to shoot at them. Their focus was on the forces that Jean was leading to the gate of the castle, not on the man and woman behind the archers. Marco was sure that, between Jean and where Erwin was focusing on the crumbling wall, they didn’t have the time to bother with a servant and a princess so far away from the rest of the battle. Marco didn’t even think that their bows allowed them any range far outside the castle walls, which gave Sasha and her archers plenty of time to pick off soldiers on the wall.

His mare snorted and sidled again, Marco stopping her before she bumped into Historia’s grey. He glanced over in time to see the grey pin his ears, but Historia didn’t seem to attention. She was staring into the thick of the battle, her gaze darting around to pockets of fighting. Her grey shifted as she raised her hands, the horse tossing his head.

Historia tugged slightly on the reins as the horse stepped out around the end of the archers, nudging him back over beside Marco. She looked away from the battle, biting her lip as she turned to meet Marco’s gaze. “It doesn’t look good.”

Marco shrugged, standing up in his stirrups. The battle didn’t look good, but he hadn’t been to many that did. From what he could see, it looked like Jean and the others were managing, which was good enough. He frowned and sat down in the saddle, throwing a look back over at Erwin’s flank.

The wall had caved inwards, but Marco could still see some soldiers of Trost holding the breech. From what he could see of the castle wall, Erwin and his troops were probably still making their way to the front gate. It wouldn’t take them long, which was all that mattered. Jean would hold in front of the gates for as long as it took. The only thing that worried him was the fact that Ulkin and whoever he had gotten to fight for him hadn’t arrived.

He stood up in his stirrups again to stare at what he could see of the plain behind the castle. It was suspiciously empty, far too empty for Marco’s liking.

He frowned and patted Llamrei’s neck, tempted to cast a fleet-footed spell on the mare. She was already fast, but Marco wanted to make sure that he was to where Ulkin had camped and back before any new developments in the battle. Jean might have told him to guard Historia, but that didn’t mean that he would leave Jean to his own devices. He couldn’t risk the future of the country, even if Jean had ordered him to.

Marco spread his fingers out over Llamrei’s neck, about to mutter the spell under his breath when Historia sighed. He flinched, jerking his hand away from the mare’s neck. He glanced back at her, watching as Historia played with her horse’s mane.

“I wish Ymir were here.”

Marco froze at the mention of the other sorcerer. He quickly rocked back into the saddle before Historia could notice that something was wrong. When he glanced over at her Historia’s attention was on him, which meant that he couldn’t get away with anything. He nodded slowly, letting the reins fall loose in his hands. “Do you think she could help that much?”

Historia nodded with more conviction than Marco had expected. “Anyone could have helped, right? She’s good at sneaking into places. And…she can use magic, but don’t tell Jean!”

Marco shook his head, just stopping himself from making the sign of the three goddesses to prove his sincerity. Instead he just offered her a smile. “I promise.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning forward on her horse. She smiled back at him before nodding. “I know how he feels about magic and what it can do, but I’ve seen what good it can do.”

“Conquering a city?”

“Bringing peace to the people, because they need it.” Historia shot him a stern look before she relaxed. “I didn’t even recognize the route we took in, everything’s been changed so much. I might not be the best one for this but at least it won’t be war.”

“True.”

“And she could protect me while you stay with Jean.” Marco shot Historia a shocked look, earning a soft chuckle. She reached out to pat his shoulder. “He _does_ look at you.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“He sees you, Marco, despite what he says. And he does care, in his own way. You should cherish that, while you can.”

Marco was sure that Historia didn’t mean to make it sound threatening, but it was hard to push back his horror. He had been told that the golden age that Jean’s reign would always be living on borrowed time. Marco was sure that it wouldn’t end trying to put Historia on the throne, but the visions he had been given were so vague that the end could come at any time. Watching and thinking over every action was starting to wear him down, especially since Jean had decided to actually start completing the destiny that every magical creature had assigned to him. Uniting the kingdoms wouldn’t be easy or safe, but it was for the best despite what doom was always foretold. It would have been easier if he could just focus on keeping Jean safe instead of always waiting for something horrible to happen, but he always found his thoughts straying that was in the end.

He swallowed, reaching forward to pat his mare to give himself time to think. It didn’t help much, but Marco just shrugged. “He’s my friend.”

He didn’t quite know how to interpret the almost wistful look that Historia gave him. Marco preferred just to look out towards where Jean was with his knights on the battlefield. In the silence that fell over them, Marco expected Historia to say something else.

The princess had been melancholy since Ymir had disappeared when Eren had been captured by the Cewri. Marco still didn’t know what had happened, but he knew that Eren, Bertholdt and Reiner had come back, but Ymir had not. There was a story there, something that had to be important to what was going on, but no one was talking about it.

Marco heard Historia take a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what she was going to say. He frowned when she paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. But Historia wasn’t looking at him, she was focused on something just over his shoulder, her mouth open in shock.

He twisted in the saddle, his eyes widening as he saw the new army that was running towards them. Marco picked out their distinctive spears and ridged helmets. “Cewri.”

The word seemed to spur Historia into action. She pulled on the reins of her horse, wheeling the grey around to face Sasha and her archers. “Approaching force!”

Sasha threw a glance over her shoulder, Marco almost missing the short nod that she gave before she barked out a short order. Half of the archers pivoted and started to rain down arrows on the running army.

Marco watched the first salvo hit, his attention on the soldiers who were still in the gap in the wall. Marco couldn’t tell who gave the order, but a good amount of them turned to defend the gap. He swallowed and turned his gaze to where Jean was attacking the gates. From what he could see, the soldiers defending the city were about to give, which meant that Erwin had done his job, but they wouldn’t have the time to turn and meet the new attackers.

He gritted his teeth, quickly making his decision. It didn’t matter that Jean had given him an order, the only thing that mattered was keeping Jean alive.

He glanced over toward Historia, glad when she nodded. “Go on. I’ll help Sasha here.”

“Don’t get captured.”

“There are plenty of places we can hide and annoy them. Just go.”

Marco nodded before kicking Llamrei. The mare didn’t even need a spell to break into a full gallop, Marco leaning forward to encourage her faster. He thought he heard the mare snort, but his attention was already away from his horse. She was battle trained, just like most of Jean’s horses. It was only because she was slighter than Buchwald that Jean didn’t ride her into battle. Llamrei could handle dodging what came after them in battle, Marco would focus on any arrows or enemy army coming. He shifted the reins to one hand, curling his fingers as he prepared to knock anything away from the two of them.

From the quick glances that he threw back at the Cewri, none of them had bows to match the longbows that Jean had, but the spears were just as deadly. The more dangerous things were the arrows that were coming from the city,

Marco gritted his teeth and urged Llamrei on, looking for Jean in the mess of soldiers that were pushing against the gate. He was sure that Jean would be right up against the gate, which would make getting to him difficult.

He craned his neck up to see if there had been any change to the defenders of the castle, but they were still in place, firing down at them. They had part of their army in the city, but they weren’t breaking through fast enough. Marco needed a direct route to Jean, and he needed it before the Cewri managed to trap Jean between the castle and their oncoming army.

He adjusted Llamrei’s course, eyeing the surging army before flinging his arm forward, his palm facing the castle gates and his fingers spread. “Allinan!”

Marco didn’t see the gates move, but he thought he saw movement from the soldiers, but that wasn’t enough. He gritted his teeth, flinging his hand forward again. This time he threw more magical weight behind it, far more than he would usually use, but he didn’t have the time to be subtle. “ ** _Allinan!_** ”

The gate shuddered before splintering open with the force that he had shoved behind it. Marco saw the soldiers fall back, the banner with Jean’s coat of arms dipping for a moment before a grand cheer was let out. The force streamed into the castle, Marco breathing a sigh of relief before standing up in his stirrups.

It took him a moment to spot Jean, catching sight of the king on the outskirts and motioning them on. Marco sighed with relief before steering Llamrei over to him.

Jean didn’t look up as he rode over, too busy shouting orders to his captains as they tried to organize the men. Marco shot a glance at the city through the ruined gates, tempted to mutter a spell to lock all the doors in the town. The soldiers would probably take time to loot their way through the city as soon as the enemy was taken care of. Then again, locking the doors would make it impossible for the people inside to get out, which wasn’t fair to them. There were bound to be fires in the interim between the soldiers entering the town and their captains finally managing to get things under control.

He shook his head and focused on pushing through the Jean. A few of the soldiers looked as him as he passed, but only the knights recognized him. They raised they arms and cheered as they rode by, Marco barely paying them any attention, his whole focus was on pushing his way to Jean.

He managed to get Llameri almost right up beside Buchwald before Jean turned around. Marco expected the double take and the frown that he could hardly see through Jean’s helmet. “Marco? I told you to stay with Historia.”

“I would, but she sent me.” Marco shifted on his horse, turning to look at where the Cewri were coming. He heard the clank of armor Jean turned. Jean sucked in a quick breath, Marco nodding as he watched the Cewri continue their charge.

Most of them had slowed under the rain of arrows from Sasha’s archers, and the men that Erwin must have diverted. To Marco’s surprise, he saw that some of the archers from the city had started to fire into the charging mass. Then again, there were knights with a banner behind the Cewri, Marco swallowing when he saw a standing knight shown on the banners. “We found Ulkin.”

Jean cursed, the sound muffled by his visor. There was a clang as he shoved it away from his face. Marco turned and resisted the urge to slam the visor shut again. He might have gotten away with it back in Trost, but not on the battlefield. There were knights and lords that wouldn’t allow a servant to be so disrespectful to his king.

Marco bit his lip, threading his fingers through Llamrei’s mane. “What do we do?”

“Hold the castle.” Jean pushed his shoulder, Marco rocking forward in the saddle. “Get those archers in. I’ll have Keith hold the gate until then.”

Marco knew better than to argue with that tone of voice, which meant that he would have to brave the closing space between the Cewri and the archers. He shot a look back at Jean before kicking Llamrei forward. The mare snorted, angry about having to leave the rush of battle and the other horses, but she obeyed. Marco, however, threw one last look over his shoulder, sighing when he saw Jean watching him.

He didn’t know exactly what Jean would do once he got out of range, it wasn’t like he could just come charging in for him. Marco wouldn’t let him, condemnation of magic or not.

A whinny from the mass of knights forming up to protect the shattered gates caught his attention. He smiled when he saw Eren kicking his horse away from the others, nodding at the knight. It wasn’t like he needed the protection on the way back, but he enjoyed having someone close, just in case he couldn’t catch everything. That it was Eren meant that it would be that much easier for him to catch and throw back whatever came at him without having to make up some excuse. He raised a hand when he saw Eren, acknowledging the knight following him before his attention went back to the advancing forces.

Ulkin must have given them their orders, because the knights had split off in their own cavalry charge, heading for the weak spot in the wall while the Cewri were let loose. Most of the warriors were already heading to the shattered gate, but a few had stopped to plant themselves and try to ward off the arrows. Marco narrowed his eyes when he saw the spears heading their way and towards the archers.

He dropped the reins onto Llamrei’s neck, rocking with the horse for a moment as he concentrated. It didn’t take much to nudge the wind into a different pattern, nature magic had always come instinctively to him. It was the things that men had created that were troublesome, especially things of metal. Iron seemed to take more magic to take control of, not that it had ever been a problem for Marco. It just meant an intense concentration and words that could give him away. Still, a few words shouted on the battlefield was better than a whole unit of archers dead, especially if the visions of the future were going to become true.

Marco took another breath to center himself before looking at the spears. He held out his hand toward the spears that were arcing towards Sasha and the others. Those he would have to extend his reach to catch, the others were easy enough, especially since the Cewri had thrown them so nicely. “Fléoge! Bregdan anweald gafeluc!”

The spears juddered in the air before turning back on themselves, falling on the Cewri that had thrown them. The hastily assembled ranks quickly fell apart, some of the warriors actually running from the battlefield.

Their retreat revealed the man on horseback behind them, the sun shining off the gold thread in his cloak. That and the quality of his armor meant that the man had to be Prince Ulkin. Marco narrowed his eyes and glanced at once of the spears lying on the ground. Ulkin was busy yelling at his mercenaries, not that it would bring them back around. It wouldn’t take much to kill him, and then Jean would have no resistance.

Marco winced in distaste at the thought. Battles meant that men would fight and die, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it or contribute to it. He wouldn’t kill, not unless he had no other choice.

Marco glanced down at one of the spears on the ground, gesturing almost carelessly to it. “Fléoge.”

The spear twitched and shot along the ground. Ulkin’s horse reared as the spear slid past it, the prince fighting for his seat as the horse crow-hopped before bolting away from the battlefield. That would at least keep Ulkin busy long enough for Jean to get to the castle and demand the surrender of whoever was holding it.

He turned his attention back to the archers, not surprised to see some of them making the awkward crossing motion of the new religion. What surprised him the most was the way that most of them turned the cross into the sign of the three goddesses, some of them looking bashful as he rode up.

Sasha either hadn’t noticed the reference to the old religion and its magic, or she ignored it completely. She just stuffed the rest of her arrows back into her quarrel as she jogged up to Llamrei. “We’re moving?” Marco nodded, chuckling at the cheer that Sasha gave.

She turned back to her archers and motioned to the castle. “To the gates! The king sent his luck as an escort.”

The archers laughed, but Marco noticed that all of them looked relieved. The unit collected their things and moved off at a quick trot, Marco keeping Llamrei and himself between them and the troops. A few of them ducked around her and Eren’s horse to fire off shots as they moved.

He was too busy focusing on them to notice any change in the tide of the battle, at least not until Historia came up on the other side of the archers, her gaze focused on the castle. Marco followed her gaze, grinning when he saw the flag of Trost flying above the castle, the blue wing of Geoffroi’s eagle crossed with the white wing of Eirian’s dove.

Behind him, the archers let out a cheer, Marco finding himself cheering along as they rushed for the cover of the castle walls.

* * *

“Your majesty, will you grant and keep and by your oath confirm to the people of Mitras the laws and customs given to them by the previous just and god-fearing kings, your ancestors, and especially the laws, customs, and liberties granted to the clergy and people by the glorious king, the sainted Uri, your predecessor?”

“I grant and promise them.”

“Your majesty, will you in all your judgments, so far as in you lies, preserve to God and Holy Church, and to the people and clergy, entire peace and concord before God?”

“I will preserve them.”

“Your majesty, will you so far as in you lies, cause justice to be rendered rightly, impartially, and wisely, in compassion and in truth?”

“I will do so.”

“Your majesty, do you grant to be held and observed the just laws and customs that the community of your realm shall determine, and will you, so far as in you lies, defend and strengthen them to the honor of God?”

“I grant and promise them. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God.”

The crowned was held above Historia’s head, the sun sparkling on the gold and jewels before it was lowered onto her head. The crown had just barely touch her hair when the entire hall erupted into cheers.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

* * *

“O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!”

Marco tipped his head up to stare at the clear sky, tracing out the familiar constellations as he waited. He was sure that the dragon would come to his call, especially since the moon was almost new. The only thing that might deter the dragon were the armies that were camped around the castle, but he was far enough away that he could only see the fire. Marco was sure that the soldiers wouldn’t even notice a dragon coming, not with the way that they’d been celebrating since they had won the castle from Dirk’s exhausted forces. Marco was sure that a good half of their forces had been intoxicated for Historia’s coronation and were only making it worse with their continuing celebrations.

Then again they had earned it. Erwin and his forces had charged through the streets of the lower town and had been minutes away from opening the gates before he had blasted them open. All of the Trost soldiers had fought on two fronts for a while, at least until Ulkin’s Cewri warriors had quit the field. Apparently, Ulkin hadn’t paid them enough money to stand and fight against Jean and Dirk’s armies. That hadn’t stopped Dirk from ending up in the dungeons with his brother, but that had been more for their protection than any threat that they represented. As far as the people of Mitras were concerned, Dirk and Ulkin were their enemies. The people had welcomed Jean and his knights in with cheers, but they had threatened to stone their former kings.

He rubbed his arms, sighing when the sky remained clear. He couldn’t stay out of the castle for long, not with the festivities for the lords and knights set to continue until dawn. Jean would need him there to pour his wine and then to help him stumble back to his rooms. Even if Jean didn’t need him, it was a matter of status, something that Jean would want to flaunt, especially to the people of Historia’s realm. An alliance wasn’t won through promises and pretty words alone, Marco had learned that much from trailing Jean in his royal duties. Most monarchs wanted a display of power, a show that they weren’t entering into anything that would become a problem.

Marco let his arms drop to his sides, about to call for the dragon again when he heard something moving in the trees. From her place tied behind him, Marco heard Llamrei snort, the mare shifting restlessly where he had tied her up. That was as good sign as any that the dragon was answering his call. The better sign was that the dragon hadn’t come directly to him, which meant that someone else had come along.

He smiled when the great brown and red beast moved into the clearing. Marco stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Prochoros.”

The dragon made a sound like a huff, but Marco saw its tail twitch slightly. Of the two dragons left in the world, Prochoros disliked being called upon the most, but he was the only one who knew the whereabouts of the person that he really wanted to talk to.

Marco looked back up at Ymir slid down the dragon’s shoulder. The woman sighed when she saw him, patting Prochoros shoulder. “You called my dragon to talk to me.”

Prochoros hissed at the possessive way that Ymir addressed him, but it looked like he preened just as much under the praise. He took a step away from Ymir to extend his muzzle towards Marco. Marco held his hand out, letting Prochoros press the tip of his muzzle against the palm of his hand. “Dragon lord.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“I cannot resist a call.” Prochoros rumbled the words out, the deep tone of his voice making it difficult to tell if he was annoyed by the call or not. It was only in the relaxed set of the dragon’s wings that Marco could tell that Prochoros hadn’t minded. In fact, now that his greeting was done, the dragon was looking around. “I admit, I was interested in what would go on. It is always good to be vigilant during a time when the web of destiny is being untangled.”

Ymir snorted at the dragon’s speech, smacking Prochoros on the shoulder before stepping forward. “Destiny or not, you called me. Why?”

Marco sighed and rubbed his forehead. In the months after Ymir had disappeared, he had forgotten how difficult it was to work with her. She might have been a sorcerer like he was, but he had forgotten how much she owned the title instead of hiding it like he did. For that, she had always been short with him, like he was just wasting her time.

He glanced up at her before shrugging. “Your promise to Historia?”

Ymir flinched at the reminder, quickly looking away again. “Ah. I heard she’d been crowned.”

“And now you’re back.”

Ymir shook her head, taking a step back. “Not yet.”

“Then when?”

“When the time is right.”

Marco groaned. “You’ve been spending too much time with Prochoros.”

“Probably.” Marco expected her to laugh, but she remained serious. “But I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to go down when Jean does.”

Marco sucked in a quick breath, staring at Ymir. All of the sorcerers seemed to know about what Jean’s future was, far more than Marco was ever allowed to know. Worse still was the fact that he tried to get them to tell him about what was coming, only to get incomplete answers. He didn’t care that the threads of destiny were still in flux, he wanted to be able to protect Jean without worrying that he was just leading them closer to their doom.

He swallowed and looked pleadingly at Ymir. “What do you mean?”

“I can come back now and help you and Jean start those glory days that everyone keeps talking about. Or I can stay hidden and make sure that Historia lives. That’s my choice and I’m choosing Historia.”

Marco hadn’t expected her to make any other choice, but his stomach still twisted to hear someone say it. He was tempted to ask what else she knew, but he was sure that she wouldn’t tell him. It was like the world was conspiring to keep in the dark. If the sorcerers and the magical beings really wanted a time of peace and prosperity then it would make more sense if they just told him outright what he needed to watch out for. What was the point of creating a great kingdom if its king wouldn’t be around to govern it?

He must have kept quiet for too long because Ymir took a step back closer to the dragon, resting her shoulder against Prochoros’ side. “It’s nothing against you, Marco. If it were you, you’d do the same thing.”

The reminder didn’t help, but he kept his mouth closed. Telling Ymir the truth wouldn’t do anything, it would just prove her point and it wouldn’t change the situation.

He raised one shoulder in a shrug. “So, what do we tell Historia?”

“What you’ve been telling her. I’ll be back, and she knows that. She’ll wait. Besides, I won’t be long.” Ymir winked at him before turning and clambering up onto Prochoros’ back.

Marco didn’t get the chance to ask her what she meant before the dragon took off, Marco raising an arm to block the wind that was coming off the dragon’s wings. He lowered his arm as soon as Prochoros and Ymir were gone, staring at the silhouette of the dragon as Prochoros banked to head back to his home.

He remained standing in the clearing until the dragon was gone, feeling more shaken than before he had called on the dragon. Maybe it would have been better to just forget about Ymir until she had come back on her own. He hadn’t needed the reminder that everything was coming to an end.

He turned and walked back to Llamrei, stroking the mare’s neck as she snorted and shook. He would wait for her to calm down before riding her back to the castle. Then he would have to pretend that he wasn’t contemplating the end of Jean’s rule while he watched Historia celebrate the start of hers.

He sighed and rubbed the star in the middle of Llamrei’s forehead. “What am I going to do?”

The mare snorted in response. It wasn’t the answer that he had been looking for, but it was better than the rest of the cryptic statements that he had been given over the years.

He shook his head and untied Llamrei from the tree, giving her forehead one more rub. “Come on, girl, let’s get back.”

Llamrei tossed her head as he guided her away from the tree, but she settled quickly. Marco was glad for that, it would give him time to think as he headed back to the castle.

* * *

The pyres had long since burned out, leaving piles of ash and a scattering of bone fragments that hadn’t burned. Heat still lingered in the area, but Jean still shivered, wrapping his cloak more tightly around him. Distantly, he could hear the sounds of the celebration that had been going on through the night. Jean threw a glance over his shoulder towards the lights of the castle.

He should be there with the others, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He had stood by the burning pyres as all of the dead from Trost were loaded in and he didn’t think he could remember how to move. There had been so many.

Jean wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the battle would have been a victory without a loss of life, but he hadn’t expected Ulkin to attack. He should have known better. Sasha had said that she had spotted what looked like his forces, but Jean had just ignored them until they had attacked because he had thought that Ulkin would retreat in front of a superior force. Instead, they had lost more men because he hadn’t bothered to take the other prince into account.

He swayed in place, watching a bit of the ash pile collapse as it settled. He was sure that Erwin and Keith had kept track of all the people that had died following him into battle. If not, all of his captains would be compiling a list as soon as they were sober enough to write. That just left Jean with the task of figuring how to make up for the lives he had taken by ordering the battle. He was the one at fault after all, he was the king who had led them into battle and he was the king who had killed soldiers on the other side.

The sound of footsteps behind him surprised him. He had thought that everyone was too busy in the celebrations. There was only one person he could think of who would come to get him, and Jean had thought that he would be too busy with his own preparations.

He watched as Marco edged into the courtyard, his servant’s gaze darting to the remains of the pyres before they settled on Jean. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“I thought you were busy unpacking.”

Marco shrugged. “Some things are more important. That and people started asking where you were. The knights want to see their king victorious.”

“I’m not feeling too victorious.”

“I can tell.” Marco stepped up beside him, falling into his usual familiar position.

As always, Jean reminded himself that it wasn’t normal for a servant to stand so close, but he didn’t care. Marco had been hovering around him for as long as the man had been in Trost. It was too late to try and correct the breech of etiquette, and Jean didn’t care. Marco was better than some crafty sycophant whispering in his ear.

Marco was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat. “You’re doing the right thing. You’re helping a kingdom get back together and keeping your people safe.”

“I know.” Jean snapped the words out, slumping a moment later. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself the same thing, he was always faced with the cost of whatever he had done. It was hard not to notice it when all of the knights of the realm suddenly looked to him for answers. That was a kind of pressure that couldn’t be ignored.

“Jean,” Marco rested a hand on his shoulder, the touch light and barely there. “You’re doing a good job.”

He closed his eyes, not bothering to reply. There was no need to, not with how sure Marco sounded, and he could trust Marco. The circle of his closest knights and Marco would never let him down, but Marco would never let him get away with anything. His was a gentle guidance, sometimes more effective than any yelling that Eren could do. And it felt right in the small courtyard with the pyres. It was a quiet reassurance in the middle of a great quiet.

He leaned over, letting his head fall onto Marco’s shoulder. In what felt like the same moment, Marco’s hand lifted to pull him close, a protective arm laid across Jean’s back. Jean leaned back onto the arm, letting himself be the one protected for the moment.

“You were lucky out there.”

“I always am.” Marco sounded amused.

Usually, the tone of voice would have made Jean laugh and joke about Marco’s sudden spike in confidence. He was more used to his servant moving carefully around the castle, almost hiding at times unless he was absolutely needed. Marco had never been comfortable in the spotlight, but he excelled when he could melt into the background. But, somewhere along the line, that had changed. Marco didn’t sound like that boy from all those years ago who could barely hold a sword and who looked at Jean with nothing but frustration.

Jean reached out to grip onto Marco’s shirt, not sure what he was trying to hold him back from. “Doesn’t matter. You have to be careful. Luck can run out.”

“I know.” The words were almost whispered, Jean lifting his head slightly to catch if Marco had actually spoken.

When Marco didn’t glance at him, Jean looked back at the pyres. For a moment, the thought he saw two birds in the smoke, an eagle and a dove twining around each other. But, when he blinked, they were gone.

Jean lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, the motion dislodging Marco’s hand from his shoulder. Jean mourned the loss of the warmth across his back, but he shook it off. There were other things that were calling his attention, and he was sure that Marco would start to pull him towards them. He could wallow more after the celebration, when he was back in his rooms. Marco would allow him that.

He gave the pyres one last look before turning on his heel. “Come on, they’ll be expecting us.”

Jean didn’t have to look back over his shoulder to know that Marco was following him, just like he always was, but he couldn’t help it. Turning his head was worth it, just to catch the gentle smile that Marco seemed to reserve for him. Jean smiled back and let the hand closest to Marco lag back just enough that he was able to brush their fingers together as their hands swung.

The moment of warmth that sparked up his arm was worth it. Marco was still there, still by his side as he should be, and as he always would be.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Allinan – “Open” (According to Merlin the Complete Guide)  
> Fléoge! Bregdan anweald gafeluc! – “Fly” (According to Merlin the Complete Guide)  
> O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes! – “O dragon, permit the appeal for an audience to speak here, fierce, wise-minded one.”
> 
> -Cewri is Welsh for giant, which I thought perfect to kind of bridge the idea of roaming bands of Saxons and the roaming titans that are in the series.
> 
> -Llamrei is the name of one of Arthur’s horses according to the Welsh tale Culhwch and Olwen. She’s supposedly responsible for the hoof print left in the rock at Carn March Arthur. I couldn’t change Buchwald to one of the other horses Arthur rides in legend, I’m too attached to him.
> 
> -Historia’s coronation oath is taken from Sources of English Constitutional History, supra, vol. 1 by C. Stephenson & F. G. Marcham and is the coronation oath of King Henry VIII


End file.
